The Proper End of a Marriage
by TheGoddessofDeath
Summary: When they existed, they were married. When they existed, they loved each other. When they existed, they killed each other. Marluxia x Larxene.


**The Proper End of a Marriage  
**By: TheGoddessofDeath

A/N: I am an active user on the website "Deviantart". The other night I was looking through Marluxia x Larxene fanart in an effort to come up with some inspiration for a fanfiction. That's when I found OneofTwo's awesome piece called "The proper end of a marriage". Please take the time to go look at it: this picture heavily inspired the following story (I will put a link in my profile). Thank you and I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts or the characters in the fanfiction. The names Marlow and Laksha are borrowed from OneofTwo.

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When Laksha met him for the first time, saw his charming smile and heard his soothing voice echo in her ears is when her heart first betrayed her head. Marlow was everything she had been looking for in a partner, and she fell instantly in love with him when he presented a rose to her with a soft proposition of coffee.

The two were coworkers, working in a big corporation like sheep. Laksha was a beautiful blonde woman in her mid-twenties, full of optimism for her future. She did not fall into the arms of men willingly or easily, but with Marlow it was different.

It wasn't long at all before coffee and idle chatter became dinner dates, admist letters and flowers left on her desk when she was off copying a paper for the boss or in a meeting. The dinner dates morphed into being invited to his house to watch television or a movie on Saturday nights, which eventually led to their first gentle kisses.

Kisses and hugs became frequent as the months flew by, and it was a year and a half until Marlow finally asked the girl if she wanted to move in with him. Laksha did not even think about it: she was more than ready to live with the man she adored.

How Marlow proposes to the female isn't anything extraordinary. He offers her a ring on a rose over a romantic dinner one night, and she looks to him with an arched eyebrow. All he does is smile, that mauve hair of his falling to frame his blue eyes. That smile tell her all she needs to know, and she nods, puts the ring on and sips her champagne like nothing's even happened.

That night is the first time they make love, bodies moving atop of the comforter covering Marlow's bed. He tells her he loves her, and she believes it. She always has. Afterward she strokes his cheek, the ring on her hand now shining dimly in the dull light of the moon. She's content, snuggles into his chest and dreams.

They're married in July, flowers in all hues decorating the alter where they exchange their vows in front of friends and family. Laksha's heart feels complete, flutters gently as she says, "I do" to the male in front of her as he beams, lifts her veil and kisses her.

They buy a house on the shore, live their dream life for a while, and everything seems perfect. They continue working at the corporation, continue to live their personal lives in the light of each other.

But Laksha watches Marlow drag himself from the bed every morning, slower and slower. As the months go by, the two become separated by some sort of invisible wall. And the blonde wants to help her husband, but he never looks to her anymore.

Then the day comes where he doesn't get up at all.

She tries to get the elder male up to no avail: the male snaps at her and she storms off to work without breakfast.

It's when her heart begins to break.

It continues this way for a few weeks, contact becoming fleeting in between the two. Marlow is slowly driving himself deeper and deeper into thoughts of suicide and death, his empty gaze piercing the atmosphere and the darkness surrounding his heart.

The night comes where Laksha's had enough, pulls the sheet off the bed and tells him to get dressed. She's taking him to the only place she knows to take him: a mental institute in town where she knows he can work through whatever is bothering him.

Marlow says nothing, dressing in a dark red sweater and black pants as he watches his wife get ready. His thoughts run rampant, and he howls, letting the darkness completely take his heart over.

It's quick, pink petals swirling around him as he reached his hand out and took the scythe that formed. He hears his wife screaming, bolting for the door and he's after her in a blink of an eye. "Laksha, baby..." His voice is cold as he calls for his wife, chases the blonde out their front door onto the beach yards from their house.

She makes the mistake of looking back once she thinks she's far enough, and she screams as the scythe slashes her shirt open, a deep gash across her abdomen. The next blow hits her chest, and the next her arm.

The tears don't spill from her eyes until she reaches the ocean, the cold water coming up to her thighs before she looks back. Marlow is following, albeit slower. His eyes are void of emotion, but there's the grin that she fell in love with.

Laksha weeps openly now, knowing she's going to die here and Marlow is waiting for it. Her heart is now broken completely, knowing the one thing she let her heart fall prey to was the one thing that ultimately destroyed her.

She, too, succumbs to the same darkness that has overtaken Marlow.

Lightning surges around her hand and three golden knives appear to aid her. She doesn't question it, just knows what she must do.

Marlow is now close enough to reach out and touch her, and he does, raising the scythe in his left hand and grinning. Always grinning. Laksha is afraid, unsure, but as he strikes her again she slams the three electric knives into his stomach and drags upward to his chest.

Marlow's eyes widen, drops the scythe into the calm ocean before falling into the water himself, the darkness swallowing his body as he found his resting place. Laksha is not far behind, finally succumbing to her wounds and collapsing on top of her husband.

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Larxene is a nobody. Marluxia is a nobody. Beings that don't exist, that have no hearts. They don't remember the people they were made from or how they came to be: only that they were stuck here in The World That Never Was, doing introductions.

Number XI and Number XII. They are both new recruits, and become the fastest of friends.

Larxene will never figure out why at times she feels like killing Marluxia, and Marluxia will never figure out why he feels like he owes Larxene an apology.


End file.
